The American Missionary — Volume 48, No. 10, October, 1894 eBook

Some things that they say and do are very funny.
After one of our village boys had been to the new
boarding-school two or three weeks, he came to our
house one day of an errand. While he waited, he
said to Winona (that is Miss Collins) “Do you
sleep on a bed the way we do at school?” She
told him that she did, and then he said: “A
long time ago, when I was little and not very wise,
I used to come here to your house, and I always thought
you slept on that table [the dining-table] but, now
I am beginning to see clearly.”

The same ten-year-old friend gave me a lesson one
day in digging potatoes. And another time when
he had ridden the pony Bessie to drink at the river,
his younger brother came to the house with him.
The two are as devoted brothers as any that I know,
and when I reached out Ben’s pay toward him,
he motioned me to give it to Daniel instead. Very
likely it was shared afterward, but at least I thought
it showed a generous spirit of brotherly love.

Fourth of July and Christmas are great days here as
well as among our white friends in the East.
This year I had the pleasure of attending two Christmas-tree
celebrations. The first was at our little church
Christmas evening. The house was full, some of
the boys and young men being obliged to sit on the
edge of the little platform and on the floor, and
everybody seemed happy. The next evening I drove
about six miles, to the Oak Creek Station, to share
in the festivities at Cross Bear’s house.
There, too, they had a tree, and a Santa Claus dressed
up in a big, shaggy, fur coat, a very tall hat decorated
with Indian designs, and in his hand he carried a
stout staff on which he leaned, as if he felt the
burden of many winters. He was just as funny as
your Santa Claus, as he stood bowing and bowing, and
making his little speech.

Indians like to have a good time all together, whether
it is Fourth of July, or Christmas, or a prayer-meeting,
or a feast. And we are very thankful that now
they enjoy meeting in these ways, instead of having
the old-time heathen dances. We are thankful that
when we speak of Indians now, we do not mean a race
of people who are only waiting for a chance to scalp
us. They are our friends, as we are theirs.

God has been revealed to them, and they are coming
out of their heathen darkness into His light, and
they are learning how to live purer and better lives,
to think new thoughts, and to be Christian men instead
of heathen savages. We who have always known
of God, and heard His word, must help them “in
His name.” Think, dear boys, if there is
anything that you can do.